“That doesn’t surprise me. Folks seem steeped in their secrets when it comes to such underhanded events. I do wish we could do something to bring the people together, though. I hate that we sit separately at any gathering – that we have our separate churches. I want to sit with Sissy in church, but she’s hardly welcome in ours.”
“I heard Pastor Shattuck say that if skin color were the basis for acceptance, then Jesus probably wouldn’t be welcome, either.”
Euphanel put her hand to her mouth and suppressed a giggle.
“I’m sure,” she said, lowering her hand, “that didn’t go over well.”
“No,” Rachel agreed, smiling, “but I thought it made a whole lot of sense.”
Euphanel began working on the next hem and shook her head.
“Funny how folks always think of Jesus as blond-haired and blueeyed. I suppose it comforts them to see Him in their own way.”
“I would imagine so, but then, Sissy probably thinks of Him with skin as dark as hers.”
Looking up, Euphanel grew thoughtful. “Do you suppose folks all over the world think of God that way? Each in their own color and manner?”
“Seems reasonable,” Rachel replied. “He is all things to all people.”
“I’ll have to ask Sissy sometime what color she sees our Savior.”
Euphanel took careful stitches as she hemmed the heavy brocade fabric. Lizzie and she had found the dark gold and brown material at the commissary buried far beneath other more popular pieces. The price had been reduced because of a lack of interest, and Euphanel had taken the entire bolt. It seemed a nice heavy material to put up on the new bedroom windows.
“I just had a thought.”
“About what?” Euphanel asked.
“You were talking about something to bring the people together. Pastor Shattuck suggested the black and white baseball game tomorrow, but what about the sacred-harp singing?”
Euphanel had once loved this community activity. Over the years, folks had gotten away from shape-note singing, or sacred harp, as others called it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We could see if there was any interest at the celebration tomorrow – maybe in the evening, after the judging is announced. There are surely enough folks around here who’ve participated before that would want to do so now.”
“We used to have quite a good group of singers,” Rachel added. “Remember the old days when we would have gatherings on a Saturday after the mill shut down? We would sing all afternoon and into the night.”
“Yes! I remember it well.” Euphanel closed her eyes and could almost see the squared up formation. Altos facing the tenors, basses facing the trebles. “I enjoyed that so much.”
“Then I think we should begin again. I don’t know if the folks would feel comfortable asking the Negroes to join us, but it would be worth trying,” Rachel said thoughtfully.
“Imagine using music to bring us all together.”
Deborah closed the Bible and looked at Sissy. “Are you ready to lie back down?”
“I reckon so, Miss Deborah. I’m feelin’ a bit poorly.”
Getting to her feet, Deborah put the Bible aside and went to help Sissy from the rocking chair. “Dr. Clayton said it would probably be some months before you felt completely whole again.”
She helped Sissy to the bed and gently eased the woman onto the mattress. Deborah removed Sissy’s slippers and carefully helped her lift her legs.
Sissy moaned softly. It wasn’t like her to complain, and Deborah knew that the fact she’d made any noise at all signaled she was in pain.
“Would you like some more medicine?”
“No, I cain’t think clear when I takes it.”
Deborah nodded and drew her chair closer to the bed. “Would you like me to sit with you awhile longer?”
“It’s always a pleasure to have you near, Miss Deborah. You’s good company.”
“I don’t know about that, but I know I enjoy our talks.”
“Ain’t much to talk about these days,” Sissy said, her voice thick with sorrow.
“Oh, there’s plenty,” Deborah countered. “It’s just not the most pleasant of topics. Still, I can share the news from town. The Independence Day celebration is slated to begin bright and early in the morning. Rob and Uncle Arjan donated six feral hogs for roasting, and several of the men have been hard at work to ready them. Mother is quite excited to try out a new recipe on the canning committee. She has perfected her piccalilli.”
“Weren’t nuttin’ wrong with her old recipe,” Sissy said with a hint of a smile.
“Oh, and they got Pastor Shattuck to agree to judge the pies along with Mr. Perkins, and Dr. Clayton will make the final decision. Lizzie has made several pies to enter. I hope she’ll win a ribbon, since this is her first time to try.”
“Miss Lizzie’s turned out to be a right-fine cook.”
“Yes, she has.” Deborah folded her hands. “I can’t say the same for myself. At least not where pies are concerned. I’m better at other things.”
“We all gots our gifts. You makes a mighty good doctor.” Sissy looked at Deborah. “I’s been so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Sissy. I’m very touched to hear you say so. It means a great deal.”
“You’s always been blessed by God.”
Deborah considered that a moment. “Sissy,” she began slowly, “have you remained close to God? I mean, in spite of what has happened, have you managed to keep your faith in Him?”
Sissy looked surprised. “What other choice we got, Miss Deborah?”
“Well, some turn away from God when things are bad. I can’t say that I would blame you if your faith faltered. You’ve gone through more than anyone I know.”
“I had a moment or two where I was hurtin’ so that I couldn’t hardly pray,” Sissy admitted. “Your mama said that was the time when the Spirit hisself prays for me.”
“Romans eight, verse twenty-six,” Deborah said, nodding. “ ‘Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.’ ”
“I shore ’nuf been groaning myself.” Sissy smiled.
“It comforts me to remember that verse.” Deborah reached out to grasp Sissy’s hand. “So many times I don’t know how to pray. . . .
It just seems too hard, too confusing. In times like these when our lives seem so scarred by hate, I can’t help but wonder what to even say to God. I know He hurts for us. I know it grieves Him that we act as we do.”
“We’s weak and sinful. Ain’t no amount of good doin’s gonna change that. Onliest thing what changes our hearts is Jesus.”
“So you don’t feel that . . . well . . . that God abandoned you?”
Sissy looked at her oddly. “Abandoned me? I’d sooner say I could fly. God ain’t abandoned me. Evil comed into this world, and the devil, he done worked his miseries on us all. God’s more powerful and God has His plan. I ain’t thinkin’ He’s left me alone. ’Stead, He alone is with me.” She closed her eyes.
“That’s a wonderful way to look at it.” Deborah got to her feet.
“Sometimes it’s really hard to remember that.” She covered Sissy with the blanket. “I think it’s time I let you rest. I’ll check on you in a little while. If you need anything, you just ring the bell.”
“You’s mighty good to me, Miss Deborah.” Sissy’s words were barely audible.
Deborah pulled the curtains, then tiptoed to the door. With one final glance over her shoulder, she stepped into the hall to find her mother making her way to the room.
“Sissy is tired, so I told her I’d check on her later.”
“I was just wondering if she needed anything. I didn’t realize you’d been with her the whole time,” Mother replied.
“We got to talking,” Deborah said. “I don’t know that I would have her degree of faith, had I gone through what she did.”
�
��God doesn’t call you to have Sissy’s faith. He calls you to put your faith in Him. He’ll grow and develop it from there.”
“I know, but sometimes I feel that my faith must be as shallow as a river in drought.”
Mother smiled and put her arm around Deborah’s shoulder. “The rains will come. Trust Him. Just when you think you can’t go on, they always come. In the meanwhile, why don’t you join Rachel and me? We’re hemming the curtains.”
“I need to check on G.W.,” Deborah said, inclining her head toward the door. “He wanted to make sure he was handling the inventory ledgers the right way.”
“Well, if you finish, feel free to join us. I’m sure we’ll be sewing for at least another hour.”
“Deborah’s not going to come?” Rachel asked as Euphanel took her seat.
“She has to oversee something in the office. G.W. is learning to take over the bookkeeping, but Deborah still has things to teach him.”
“You should be proud of G.W., learning a new skill, despite his injury. I don’t know if one of my boys endured the same kind of accident that they could make such drastic changes.”
“It was God’s hand that changed G.W.’s heart.” Euphanel poured the last of the tea. “Would you like me to put on another pot?”
Rachel shook her head. “You don’t need to for me. I’m fine.”
Settling into her chair, Euphanel looked around the room. “I’ll be so glad to get everything in the new addition completed. The boys have been working too hard. Arjan and Rob even took time away from logging. I know it makes Arjan feel rather out of sorts.”
“Why do you say that?” Rachel questioned.
Euphanel shrugged. “He’s always been more comfortable working outdoors. Rutger used to say that he was surprised Arjan would even live in a house.” She chuckled. “He’s a man of the land. I was really surprised when he stayed here after Rutger’s death.”
“Why should you be?” Rachel smiled and gave Euphanel a knowing look.
“What do you mean?” Euphanel shook her head.
“He stayed because of you.”
Euphanel looked at Rachel to ascertain whether she was teasing.
“You’re serious? You think he feels responsible for me?”
“No, silly. I think he’s in love with you.”
Euphanel’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t even try to hide her surprise. “Rachel Perkins, that’s ridiculous. He’s an honorable man.”
Rachel laughed. “Now, Euphanel, you know it’s not ridiculous at all. Arjan cares for you. He always has. He acted quite noble, but now I believe he’s just biding his time until you’re done mourning.”
The idea wasn’t disagreeable to Euphanel, but it was totally unexpected. She tried to imagine Arjan declaring his love for her.What would she say? Could she allow herself to love again? What would the children think? This was their father’s brother.
“I . . . well . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“You truly have never considered this before now?”
Euphanel picked up her tea and drank down the lukewarm liquid before returning the cup to the saucer. “I suppose I haven’t.
Rachel, please don’t tease me.” She leaned forward and replaced the china on the table. “Do you honestly believe that Arjan . . . that he . . . ”
“Loves you? Yes I do. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Euphanel. I believe he’s been in love with you for as long as he’s known you.” “But he’s never said anything. He’s never even hinted at having romantic notions.”
“As you said, he’s honorable.”
Euphanel eased back against the chair and folded her hands. “What should I do?”
“Why do you have to do anything?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know, but I feel like I should do or say something.”
Rachel leaned forward and patted Euphanel’s knee. “Give it to God, as you do everything else. You once told me that God has perfect timing for everything. Allow God’s timing for this.”
CHAPTER 8
The day of the Texas Independence celebration dawned bright and clear and, despite needing more rain, the community was glad to have cloudless blue skies and low humidity. All of Perkinsville turned out for the event. Tables and booths were set up near the baseball diamond behind the church. Ladies assembled their canned goods, quilts, embroidery, and other fancy work on tables near the church, while the roasting pits and dinner tables had been positioned on the side of the clearing closest to Mr. Perkins’s house.
The street had been roped off for horse racing, which would take place later in the day, as well as a parade of prized livestock that would be auctioned in the afternoon. It was unlike any other event the community held, and no one – regardless of skin color – would miss it.
Of course, Deborah thought, there will be rules – for both the game and the social mingling. Pastor Shattuck had convinced the town to have a black and white baseball game, but as was already in evidence, the people would still sit separately for the noon meal. And, in overhearing people talk, it wasn’t just the whites who would want it that way. Many of the blacks wanted no part in comingling. Both sides displayed unspoken discomfort and evident tension.
Deborah moved among the people and exhibits looking for Christopher. They had agreed to meet at the festivities, and Deborah found herself anticipating the moment more than she’d expected. They would both be available to help should anyone get sick or injured, although Deborah knew there were few people who considered her an asset to the medical needs of Perkinsville. Folks in the area were more inclined to see her as fanciful, rather than useful. Thankfully, Christopher wasn’t of the same mind. He appreciated her quick mind and desire to learn. The thought made her smile. She missed him more each time they were apart.
She’d just seen him at supper on Sunday, but his absences seemed more and more pronounced to her. Was that what it meant to fall in love? Many had been the night she’d lain awake, pondering the idea of marriage to Christopher Clayton. There were still so many mysteries about him, and she longed to know every one of them.
When she spied Christopher, he was standing beside Mara Shattuck. Dressed in his navy blue serge suit, Deborah thought the doctor cut a fine figure. The coat had been tailored to fit his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and the trousers were of the latest style. She couldn’t help but believe him the handsomest man in attendance. Perhaps Mara thought so, too, for she leaned in closely and lifted her gloved hand to her mouth as if whispering a secret. The two seemed deep in discussion, and for a moment, Deborah experienced a twinge of jealousy.
The feeling took Deborah by surprise. Other women in the community spoke with Christopher on occasion, but something was different about this moment. Mara laughed and Christopher smiled. Deborah couldn’t help but be drawn to them.
“Hello,” she said, approaching the couple.
Christopher turned and extended his arm. “And here she is. We were just talking about you.”
Deborah couldn’t imagine what they’d said to elicit such laughter. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, from behind I mistook Miss Shattuck for you. I’m afraid I gave her a start.”
All sorts of thoughts danced through Deborah’s mind. Had he embraced her? Had he said something about her appearance that was much too personal?
“I told the good doctor that I had no idea what quinsy was, nor how to cure it,” Mara added.
Deborah smiled. “He asked you that, did he?”
“He did indeed. When he learned I wasn’t you, he was quite embarrassed.”
Mara turned back to Christopher. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see my father before he gets the baseball game started. However, if in the future one of you would like to explain the details of quinsy and the related healing methods, I promise to be most attentive.”
She raised a pink parasol and swept gracefully across the grounds to join the pastor. Deborah shook her head. “I don’t know how you could ever mistake her
for me. She’s far more elegant in her carriage and demeanor. I’ll be brown as a berry in this sun – especially since I didn’t see fit to bring an umbrella.”
“Nonsense. You are just as elegant. I wasn’t paying much attention when I approached her. I have to admit, your mother had just given me one of her orange spice doughnuts and I was deep in contemplation.”
“Contemplation?” Deborah asked.
He laughed and leaned closer. “I was contemplating how to talk her out of another one.”
She shook her head in mock disgust. Mother had always said that if she wanted to impress a man, it wouldn’t be with how much knowledge she held but rather in examples of her cooking. Sadly, that had suffered over the years.
She feigned a pout. “I suppose you shan’t want to court me unless I can make a doughnut as fine as my mother’s.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, taking hold of her arm. “I shall court you anyway. At least then I get to eat your mother’s cooking.”
She elbowed him just enough to get his attention and make him laugh. “I’m surprised you aren’t more worried about the judging to come. I’m the one who will make the final decision on the pies.
What if I’m swept off my feet by some wondrous creation?”
“What if I entered a pie?” she asked, brow raised slightly.
He looked at her and grinned. “Did you?”
Deborah shook her head. “No, but I might have.”
“You’d be more inclined to enter your thoughts on curing quinsy.” He stepped back a pace. “I must compliment you on your gown, Miss Vandermark.”
She had hoped he might find the yellow crepe de Chine appealing. Her mother had worked hard to help her fashion it into a stylish gown that flattered her dark hair and eyes.
“I’m also quite glad you chose to leave off the elaborate bustles that so many find popular.” He motioned his head toward the Perkins sisters, who happened to be strolling by.
Hearts Aglow Page 7
